


If You Ever Come Back

by where_havealltheflowers_gone



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst, Boys In Love, Break Up, Confrontations, Daddy!Mickey, F/M, Fuckbuddies, Future Fic, Getting Back Together, Just sad okay, Kid Fic, M/M, Multi, Regret, it's a lot of sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-25
Updated: 2013-11-14
Packaged: 2017-12-30 10:01:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1017264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/where_havealltheflowers_gone/pseuds/where_havealltheflowers_gone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's six years in the future.  </p>
<p>Ian's engaged to the love of his life.  Mickey has a son and a fuckbuddy/best friend who helps raise his kid and might possibly be in love with him.</p>
<p>Ian (and his finance) are going back to Chicago for Mandy and Lip's wedding.  Mickey's gonna be there.</p>
<p>What could go wrong?</p>
<p>(Gallavich will be endgame, so no worries)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Everything's the way that you left it; I still haven't slept yet.

**Author's Note:**

> SHOUTOUT TO BREEA FOR BEING THE BEST BETA THE WORLD HAS EVER KNOWN
> 
> This has been in my head for awhile and will be mostly angst until the end. All titles will be taken from If You Ever Come Back by The Script. 
> 
> Feedback is a must!

"Hey, hot stuff."

  
Mickey's head shot up and a disappointed look crossed his face.  "The fuck you want, Nick?"

  
Nick draped his upper half over the counter. "I think you know what I want," he said in a low voice.  He quirked his eyebrows for effect.

  
Mickey shoved at his shoulder.  "Fuck off.  I'm workin'."

  
"Mickey," Nick whined, "There's no one in the store.  C'mon."

  
"I already took my break.  And I ain't fucking you in here."

  
Nick grumbled under his breath and grabbed a candy bar from the box next to the cash register.  He hopped up on the counter as he peeled back the wrapper.  "You fucked Ian in here."

  
"That was different.  You're payin' for that."

  
"Yeah, yeah." He bit into the Milky Way.  "Why was it different?" he asked, chocolate falling from his mouth.

  
"You know why," Mickey mumbled as he flipped the page of his magazine.

  
"Aw, come on, Mickey.  Talk to me.  I'm your boyfriend."

  
"You're not my fucking boyfriend."

  
"Yes, I am."

  
Mickey shoved Nick so hard he fell off his seat.  He came around the countertop and hauled Nick to his feet.  "You're not my boyfriend.  Get it through your head."

  
Nick rolled his eyes.  "You are such a melodramatic person.  I don't know why I date you."

  
Mickey shook his by his shirt.  "We're not fucking dating, asswipe.  There's only one guy-" Mickey cut himself off, shoving Nick away and breathing heavily out his nose.

  
"Only one guy.  Good ol' Ian," Nick taunted, "When's he comin' back, by the way?"

  
"Fucker," Mickey snarled in Nick's direction.

  
"I'm the fucker?" Nick said incredulously as he bent to snatch his candy off the floor, "You're the one who made me drop my chocolate, shithead."

  
"You're still paying for it," Mickey said as he picked up his magazine again and settled back on his stool.

  
Nick threw a dollar down in front of him.  He flipped his blond locks out of his face.  "You gonna fuck me now or what?"

  
"I told you, not in here."

  
"I'm so hard, though."

  
"Not my problem."

  
"Come on, man.  Help me out."

  
"Why should I?"

  
"We're best friends!"

  
Mickey snorted, but didn't say anything.  It was true enough.  After Ian had left six years ago, Mickey had decided he wasn't getting involved with anyone.  Like, ever.  But then Nick happened.  He came barrelling into Mickey's life with his shaggy dark blond hair, sparkling eyes that changed color depending on what he was wearing, a toothy grin that made you want to be apart of whatever scheme he was cooking up and a no nonsense attitude that made it possible for him to see through Mickey's bullshit quicker than anyone ever had.

  
He knew why Mickey was living alone with a five year old son named Arthur and he knew why Mickey only smiled at his kid and why that smile never reached his eyes.  He knew that, at twenty-four, Mickey was only a shell of a man.  He knew everything about everything that had ever happened to Mickey, significant or not.

  
In short, Nick knew about Ian.

  
And he had no pretenses about his relationship with Mickey.  Even though he teased the Milkovich, Nick knew they weren't boyfriends.  He knew Mickey could never give him anything emotionally or anything good; he knew those parts of Mickey already belonged to Ian.

  
He didn't really care.  He meant what he said: Mickey was his best friend.  The fucking was just something that happened.  They could both live without it and it wasn't the reason they were friends.  They had just figured, since they were spending so much time together anyway, why not get off together?  It was a  convenience thing.  Nick still fucked other people on the side, when Mickey got in moods like the one he was in now.  

  
Nick sighed.  "When do you get off?"

  
"Later."

  
"What has crawled up your ass, dude?" Nick demanded.

  
Mickey slammed his magazine down on the counter.  "Mandy got a letter from Gallagher."

  
Nick braced his hands on the wood.  "Yeah, and?"

  
"And he told her he's coming to the wedding."

  
"No shit?"

  
"Yeah, no.  I mean, he's really coming." Mickey lowered his head into his hands.  "He's really fucking comin'."

  
Nick let the silence last for about five seconds.  "Dude!" he said excitedly, reaching over to slap Mickey on the shoulder, "This is good news!  You finally get your chance to tell him all the stuff you pussied out of!"

  
"Shut the fuck up," Mickey grumbled, raising his head, "This isn't good news."

  
"How ya figure?"

  
"Because," Mickey said softly, his face schooled into a blank expression.  

  
"Gonna have'ta elaborate, man."

  
"Because.. he's bringing his fucking fiance."   
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Ian rolled over and buried his nose into the neck of the person lying next to him.  He was only partially awake and it confused him why he smelled cologne instead of cigarettes.  Then he remembered.

  
"Good morning," the voice next to him said around a yawn.

  
"Hi," Ian replied sleepily, blinking and looking up at blue eyes and black hair.

  
"How are you?" Conner asked, smiling down at him.

  
Ian hummed in the back of his throat.  "M' okay.  You okay?"

  
"I'm wonderful," Conner said.  He stroked Ian's cheekbone with his finger.  "Waking up next to you is wonderful."

  
Ian grinned lazily at him.  "Yeah," he breathed.  He was still getting used to the fact that Conner would say things like that, just to say them.  And they didn't sound like they were being tugged out of him, didn't sound like it pained him to admit it.  He didn't even sound like he was admitting it.  He made it sound like it was just a fact.  
Ian had been surprised how fast he'd fallen in love with Conner.  He was smart and funny and handsome.  He had money, not that that mattered to Ian.  He was painfully honest.  He never lied or tried to hide his feelings; he had no reason to.  He was the perfect man.

  
Except he wasn't Mickey.

  
Ian squirmed at the thought, buried his face back into Conner's neck.

  
Conner didn't know about Mickey, didn't know Ian had run to the army with his brother's ID, only to get caught and kicked out two weeks after he'd enlisted.  He just knew he'd met Ian in a diner, and the redhead had been homeless.  He'd lent Ian a place to live, not asking for anything in return.

  
And Ian had fallen for him.  Really, honestly fallen for him.  Because Ian had never known a love that was gentle and sweet.  To him, love bruised and left you bloody.  Conner didn't love like that.  Sometimes, Ian wasn't sure how he felt about it.  Sometimes, he would look at Conner and see someone else.  But then he'd remember, he loved Conner.  Nothing could take that from him.

  
"Hey," Conner was saying softly.  Ian looked at him, nuzzled his collar bone.  "I'd love to stay here all day with you, but I do have to work."

  
"I know," Ian said sadly.

  
Conner bent his head so he could peck Ian lightly on the lips.  "I love you."

  
Ian smiled.  "I love you too."

  
Conner disentangled himself from Ian's embrace.  He went to the closet and pulled his button down out of it.  Ian sat up on the edge of the bed and watched him.  "When are we leaving for your friend's wedding?"

  
Ian scrubbed a hand down his face.  "Three.  You don't have to come, if you don't want."

  
Conner's perfectly sculpted face twisted.  "Of course I want to come.  What did you say her name is?"  He moved to their dresser to pull out a pair of slacks.

  
"Mandy," Ian supplied, "She's marrying my brother."

  
Conner stilled, his pants only halfway up his legs.  "I didn't know you had a brother."

  
Ian shrugged.  "I've got three."  
"Geesh." Conner yanked the slacks the rest of the way up and buttoned them.  "Any other secrets you're keeping?" he joked.

  
Ian smiled weakly at him.  "I've got two sisters."

  
Conner settled next to him on the bed so he could pull his socks on.  He nodded.  "We've been together almost six years and you never told me that."

  
Ian shrugged again.  "I was doing more important things."

  
Conner smirked at him.  "Like what?"

  
Ian leaned foward and kissed him intently.  He slipped his tongue into Conner's mouth and moaned.  

  
Conner pushed him away gently.  "As much as I'm dying to continue that, I can't."

  
"Big CEO and all that," Ian said understandingly.

  
"Yeah," Conner leaned in to kiss him again.  "I'll be here around two so I can get you."

  
Ian's eyebrows bunched together.  "We don't have to be on the road until three."

  
Conner winked at him.  "Exactly."

  
"Oh, hey, Conner?" Ian hollered once he had disappeared from view.

  
He was back in an instant.  "Yeah, what's up?"

  
"I love you."

  
Conner smiled at him and Ian's heart melted.  He was beautiful, really, he was.  "Love you too, babe.  I'll see you later."

  
"Yeah," Ian agreed, "Be ready to take a pounding."

  
Conner threw his head back and laughed.  "Always."

  
"Forever," Ian responded, as a part of a little thing they had gotten into the habit of doing.  The front door of their apartment slammed and he sighed, collapsing in a heap on the bed.  He pulled the sheets over him and curled in on himself.  He tried not to think about the fact that he'd be seeing Mickey in less than twenty-four hours.  He closed his eyes and sighed again, drifting off to sleep for a couple more minutes.


	2. Still settin' two plates on the counter, but eatin' without ya.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Except he didn't exactly look like Mickey. He was standing in front of the bar, his hands resting on the hips of the little kid that was perched on the countertop. On the stool next to him was a shaggy headed guy whose arms waved about, as if he was telling a huge story. Mickey had his head thrown back, a hand on his stomach as he laughed at whatever was being said. 
> 
> Ian's stomach flipped and he saw green. He'd never made Mickey laugh like that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SHIT'S ABOUT TO GET REAL
> 
> Obligatory thanks to Breea because she's fabulousssss.

Ian blew out a breath as he tapped out a nonexistent rhythm on the dashboard.  Conner reached over from the passenger seat to still his hand.  He smiled crookedly at his fiancé.  "Nervous?"

  
Ian moved his hand from under Conner's to grip the steering wheel as he pressed the gas so he could go through the green light.  His stomach churned as they pulled into The Alibi.  He went to tug at his door handle, but feeling Conner grab his elbow stopped him.

  
"Hey," he implored gently, "What's up?"

  
Ian shrugged.  "Nothing."

  
"Babe, I know when you're lying."

  
Ian shook off the hand on his elbow.  "It's nothing, really.  Let's just get this over with."  He pushed his door open and went around to the sidewalk just as Conner was getting out of his side of the car.  Ian pulled on the hem of his shirt and ran a hand through his hair anxiously.

  
"Stop fussing," Conner scolded with a smile, "You look great."

  
Ian smirked at him.  "You too."

  
Conner offered his hand and didn't look offended when Ian ignored it.  _'That's why I love you,'_ Ian thought as he opened the door to the dinky bar.  He threw a smile over his shoulder.  "I love you," he said out loud, just because he could.

  
Conner grinned back.  "Love you too, baby."

  
Ian turned his head back around as the door shut behind them and was greeted with the sight he knew he'd encounter, but hadn't been fully prepared for.

  
Mickey Milkovich.  

  
Except he didn't exactly look like Mickey.  He was standing in front of the bar, his hands resting on the hips of the little kid that was perched on the countertop.  On the stool next to him was a shaggy headed guy whose arms waved about, as if he was telling a huge story.  Mickey had his head thrown back, a hand on his stomach as he laughed at whatever was being said.  

  
Ian's stomach flipped and he saw green.  He'd never made Mickey laugh like that.

  
Conner's hand on his shoulder brought Ian back to reality.  "You okay?" Conner asked, leaning forward to whisper in his ear.

  
It was then that Mickey looked over.  Their eyes locked and Ian thought he was going to fall over from the amount of regret and want that surged through him.  

  
Conner squeezed his shoulder and Ian turned his head to look into the blue eyes that were widened in worry.  

  
"M' fine," he assured with a half-smile.  "I just.. I know that guy over there.  We were.. friends."

  
Conner turned to look.  Ian gulped, hoping Mickey had looked away.  "You wanna go say hi?"

  
"No!" Ian said.  Conner looked back at him, eyes wide again.  "I mean," Ian blew out a breath, "No, he looks busy.  I'll just.. catch him later.  Or never.  It's whatever.  Let's find Mandy."

  
Something flashed in Conner eyes and he nodded, moving his hand.  "That's him, isn't it?" Conner questioned softly.

  
"Him?  Him who?" Ian asked.

  
"That's the guy whose name you whisper in your sleep," Conner said matter-of-fact, "that's Mickey."

  
"I don't..." Ian sputtered.  He looked down at the floor.  "I didn't know I talked in my sleep," he mumbled guiltily.

  
Conner crooked a finger under Ian's chin to press a soft kiss to the side of his mouth.  "S' okay," he said, his lips tugging upwards, "Sometimes you whisper my name too."

  
Ian smiled sadly.  "Hopefully more than I whisper his."

  
Conner shrugged.  "As long as you're whispering my name at all, I'm satisfied."

  
Ian full on grinned at that.  He pushed his lips onto Conner's.  "I love you," he said, "I really do."

  
Conner stroked a hand over his hair.  "I know it.  And I love you."

  
Ian linked their fingers together.  "I know it."   
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Mickey threw out a hand haphazardly to steady himself.  Nick caught it.  "Dude, you okay? What-"

  
"Gallagher," Mickey wheezed under his breath.  

  
Nick whipped around just in time to see Ian kissing a dark-headed guy.  "Damn, his fiancé is hot!"  He looked back towards his now glaring best friend.  "What?  It's true!"

  
"Not fucking helping," Mickey ground out.

  
"C'mon, man, you can admit the guy is a nice piece of ass."

  
Mickey yanked his hand out of Nick's grasp.  He turned back towards his son.  "Hey champ," he said, picking Arthur up and setting him on his feet, "Go find Aunt Mandy, okay?"  
Arthur nodded and ran off towards the dance floor.

  
"What're you gonna do?" Nick asked.

  
Mickey fixed him with a look momentarily before pounding a fist on the bar.  "Yo, Kev!  Gimme somethin' strong!"

  
"Oh, yeah," Nick quipped as he plopped back down on his bar stool, "Drink away your problems.  That always works."

  
"Fuck off," Mickey snarled as he knocked back the shot Kev had set in front of him.  "Keep 'em comin'," he said.

  
"You're gonna get shitfaced with your kid here?" Nick asked, "Who do you think you are, Frank Gallagher?"

  
Mickey glared at him.  Nick put on his 'don't be a shithead' face and glared right back.  Mickey sighed.  "How the fuck else am I s'pose to deal with this?"

  
Nick jumped down off his stool.  "You," he said as he took Mickey's hands, "are going to dance with me."

  
Mickey pulled away.  "No, fuck no.  I don't dance."

  
"Would you dance with Ian?"

  
"No."

  
"And that's the exact same attitude that got you in this mess in the first place, isn't it?"

  
"Fuck off.  He's gonna see me."

  
"Yeah, and he'll see you've moved on, just like he has."

  
"But... I haven't."  
Nick threw up his hands in exasperation.  "Like he knows that!"

  
"That's just like fucking lying to 'im, Nick."

  
Nick crossed his skinny arms over his chest.  "You never had a problem lying to him before."

  
"Lying to who?" Mandy asked as she came up to them, all smiles and lipstick and sparkles.

  
"Nobody," Nick said, "You look beautiful."

  
Mandy beamed at him and looked down at her dress.  "Thanks.  You don't think it was too much?"

  
"Yeah," Mickey said, "Way too much.  You look like a fucking drag queen."

  
Mandy scowled at him, landing a punch to his bicep.  "Fuck you."

  
"Mickey, be honest.  Tell your sister she's just a vision in white."

  
Mickey rolled his eyes.  "You're so gay, man."

  
Nick bent to peck a kiss on Mickey's cheek, laughing when he was swatted away.  "Yeah," he said happily, "I am.  And so are you."

  
"Ian!" Mandy squealed as the redhead wrapped her into a hug.  His fiance stood near him, smile lighting up his face.  

  
Mickey could admit, at least to himself, that the guy was hot.  

  
"I missed you too," he heard Mandy saying as she pulled away from Ian.

  
"Congratulations," Ian's fiance said, thrusting his hand forward for Mandy to shake.  "I'm Conner."

  
"The boyfriend," Mandy said.

  
"Fiance," Ian and Conner corrected at the same time.  

  
Mandy's smile didn't drop, but Mickey knew when his sister was faking.  And, because she was a catty bitch, she turned to Mickey and Nick.  "This is my brother, Mickey," she said to Conner.  Ian tensed and suddenly became very interested in the floor.

  
Conner stuck out his hand, smile still on his face.  "Nice to meet ya."

  
Mickey thought about spitting on his hand.  He thought about turning away from him.  He almost did.  But then he looked over Conner's shoulder and found Ian's eyes locked on him, watching what he would do next.  He grabbed Conner's hand and shook it.  "Likewise," he said, his eyes never leaving Ian's face.

  
Nick coughed obnoxiously and Mickey rolled his eyes.  "This is Nick," he offered.

  
Nick pumped Conner's hand.  "The boyfriend."

  
"Not the boyfriend," Mickey quickly corrected, shooting Nick a look.

  
Nick just grinned.  "Mickey likes to do this thing where he pretends he's not gay.  Just a little game he plays."

  
Mickey threw an elbow into his ribs.  "Can it, fuckface."

  
Nick wiggled his eyebrows.  "Make me."

  
"Oh..kay," Conner said, rubbing his hands together, "Good to meet you all, but I'm going to see if I can get this one to dance with me." He looked at Ian, hand open in question.  
Ian rolled his eyes, but he was grinning.  He kissed Mandy's cheek briefly before letting himself be pulled onto the floor.

  
Mickey got off his stool.

  
"Are you gonna go after him like you always should have?" Nick asked.

  
Mickey wrenched the beer bottle out of Nick's hand, downed it and slammed it down on the bar.  "Yep."


	3. I'm sleepin' on your side of the bed.  Goin' out of my head now.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Well, what are you waiting for? Go after him."
> 
>  
> 
> "Nah, I ain't chasin' after him like some bitch."
> 
>  
> 
> "Mickey, face it, you've been Ian Gallagher's bitch for a long fucking time."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Breaa seriously deserves all the awards, especially in this chapter. It was pure crap before she got her hands on it.
> 
> Enjoy!!!

Mickey's hands clenched at his sides as he made his way towards Ian and Conner, who were locked together on the dance floor.  He had no clue what he was about to do.   
It occured to him that he maybe had had too much to drink.

  
Ian's eyebrows rose to a position so close to his hairline Mickey wanted to laugh—that is, if the expression hadn’t been aimed directly at him.

  
"Uh," he stuttered as his thumb came up to brush against his bottom lip. Ian’s mouth twitched upwards involuntarily for just a split second before his stony-eyed expression managed to take back its place. He wasn’t fast enough, however, because Mickey caught it.  

  
Conner was looking from Ian's face to Mickey's and back to Ian's.  "Look, Mickey," he started and Mickey grudgingly tore his eyes from Ian's face so he could scowl at the guy, "you're making Ian uncomfortable, I think.  Why don't you go back over to the bar where your boyfriend is?  Or find your son?  I mean, this can't be a very safe place for him."

  
Mickey snickered in his face.  "He's Southside, bitch.  Born and raised.  He's not even in kindergarten yet and he could kick your ass in a fight."

  
Conner smiled and Mickey wanted to wipe the floor with his face.  "What kind of parent are you, teaching a toddler how to fight?"

  
Ian winced.  His eyes only closed for a second but once he'd opened them again, Mickey had Conner pinned against the nearest wall, his fists bunched in Conner's jacket.  Conner’s feet dangled a foot or two off the ground.

  
"You listen here," Ian heard Mickey growl under his breath as he stepped closer, "I'm a good dad and Arthur is a **great** fucking kid.  I will beat you seven ways from Sunday if you ever talk about my son again.  Do you hear me?"

  
"Mickey," Ian said, putting his hands on the older man's shoulder, "put him down!  He didn't mean it."

  
"I ain't talkin' to you right now, Firecrotch," Mickey responded without taking his eyes off the shocked face in front of him.  He shook Conner roughly.  "I said 'do you hear me?!'"

  
Conner swallowed and nodded.  "Loud and clear, big guy.  How about puttin' me down now?"

  
Mickey lowered him to ground and snickered.  He turned to Ian.  " **This** guy, _for real_?"

  
Ian's jaw clenched.  "Fuck off."

  
Mickey laughed harshly and shook his head.  "You can take the guy out of the Southside, but you can't take the Southside outta the guy."

  
Ian shoved past him to get to Conner.  "M' so sorry," he mumbled, "We shouldn't have come."

  
Conner brushed off his concern.  "It's not your fault.  I'm fine."

  
"How cute is that," Nick said, randomly appearing at Mickey's side, "Love.  They're in love.  You ever been _in love_ , Mickey?" Nick elbowed his friend.

  
Ian turned to lock eyes with the Milkovich, studying his face.  Mickey's breath caught in his throat.  "Mickey never loved anybody but himself," Ian scoffed.  "Come on, Conner, we're going."

  
Mickey caught the ginger's arm as he moved past him.  "For your information," he said softly, looking up with shiny eyes, "I have never even liked myself."

  
Ian jerked his wrist out of Mickey's hand.  "How sad for you," he sneered.  He grabbed Conner's hand and tugged him out of the room, letting the door slam behind him.

  
"Well," Nick drawled, clapping his hands once, "That went... great.  Right?  I mean, you threatened his fiance, he got pissed off at you.  Awesome."

  
Mickey scrubbed a hand over his face.  "Fuck," he whispered.

  
"Yeah, fuck is about right," Nick said, nodding, "Well, what are you waiting for?  Go after him."

  
"Nah, I ain't chasin' after him like some bitch."

  
"Mickey, face it, you've been Ian Gallagher's bitch for a _long fucking time_."

  
Mickey shoved him.  "Fuck you," he said, but he knew it lacked venom.

  
Nick shoved him right back.  " **Go.**   Right now.  Or I'm gonna kick your ass."

  
"The fuck am I supposed to say?"

  
"Oh, I dunno.  How about you start with, hmm.. an 'I'm sorry?'"

  
"I ain't sorry for threatening that pussy faggot.  He should be apologzing to me."

  
"You picked him up and threw him into a wall-"

  
"He talked shit about my kid!"

  
"-and, dude, you really need to stop using the word 'faggot,'" Nick continued, like Mickey hadn't said anything at all. "It's offensive.  And you _are_ a faggot, so it's just plain stupid for you to use it.  Now, get the fuck out of here before they leave."   
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Mickey tried to not appear sheepish as he stepped out of The Alibi and onto the sidewalk.  Ian was standing right outside the door, talking with Mandy in a suspiciously secretive way.

  
Ian rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest when he saw Mickey approaching.  Conner wrapped a comforting arm around his waist.  Mandy's eyes darted from her brother to Ian.  She looked ready to break up a fight, if she needed to.

  
Mickey bunched his hands in his pockets and bit his lip.  "Look, I.." he groped for the words, eyes rolled up towards the sky, "...I'm sorry I shoved ya."  He pointedly avoided Ian's glare and looked at Conner instead.  "I shouldn't have, okay? But it fucking pisses me off when people talk shit on my kid.  I mean, he's a great kid.  So.  Yeah, sorry, man."  He turned on his heel and marched back into the bar, not waiting for a response.

  
"Damn," Mandy breathed after a second, "I think hell just froze over."

  
"Nice guy," Conner chuckled.  He hugged Ian to him.  "Ready to go?"

  
"Umm," Ian hesitated, looking back towards the door Mickey had disappeared into, "j-just let me talk to him for a minute."  He pulled away from Conner.  "I'll be right back."

  
When Ian walked back into the bar, Nick sent an elbow flying into Mickey's side.  Nick then moved to grab Arthur before taking seat on a barstool and sitting Mickey’s son comfortably in his lap. Upon getting hit with Nick’s elbow, Mickey stopped chewing on his fingernail and looked up, about to deliver a blow of his own, when his eyes landed on Ian. He felt an unknown emotion dive into the pit of his stomach and sit there like a rock.

  
"Nick, wha's Daddy doin'?" Arthur asked.

  
"Shh, Arthie," Nick hushed, "This is about to get good."


	4. I'm sitting here tryin' to pursuade you, like you're in the same room.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian grinned. "Some things never change."
> 
> Mickey turned to look him in the eyes. "Some things do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE FEEEEEEELLLLLSSSSS

As soon as the words "I need to talk to you" were out of Ian's mouth, he turned on his heel.  Mickey only watched for a moment before following.  He didn't need to catch up or ask where they were going; he already knew.  

  
They were sitting on the floor in the dugout- _their dugout_ \- passing a smoke back and forth before Mickey uttered the question that had been stinging his mind ever since Mandy told him Ian was getting hitched:

  
"Do you love him?"

  
Ian exhaled the smoke and handed the cigarette back as he nodded.  "Yeah.  Yeah, I really do."

  
Mickey nodded too, his lips wrapped around the cigarette.  "He good to you?"

  
"Yeah," Ian said, awe and affection heavy in his voice, "Better than I deserve."

  
Mickey snorted at that, wanting to say that Ian deserved the world, the universe, and then some.  "How'd ya meet 'im?"

  
Ian sighed, a hint of a smile on his face when Mickey glanced over.  "After they kicked me out of the army, I hitchhiked to New York.  I knew I couldn't come home, ya know...I fucked up Lip's life with the stunt I pulled.  Anyway, when I got there, it was raining so I went into a diner and spent my last five dollars on a sandwich.  Conner saw me, felt bad for me, came over and offered me a place to live.  Just like that."  Ian shrugged, full on grinning now.  "He saved me, ya know?  I just.. I fell for him.  He really is perfect."

  
Mickey pushed down the jealousy that was curling in his gut.  "M' happy for you."

  
"What about you?" Ian asked after a beat.

  
"What about me?"

  
"Nick?"

  
"Nah, man," he chuckled, "Most days I don't even fuckin' like him."

  
"You like him," Ian said dismissively.

  
Mickey shrugged.  "I mean, he's my best friend.  He helps me take care of Arthie.  But it ain't like that."

  
Ian nodded.  "But you fuck him.  Or get fucked by him, I guess."

  
"No, I don't get fucked by anybody," Mickey said.  "Not anymore," he added under his breath.

  
"So your wife was really pregnant, huh?"

  
Mickey flicked the end of the cigarette, causing ashes to float down to his feet.  He handed it back to Ian.  "Yeah, she was.  She isn't my wife anymore, though.  She ain't been my wife for a long ass time."

  
"Where'd she go?"

  
Mickey shrugged, accepting the stick back from Ian and scuffing it out under his shoe after taking a drag.  "Her pimp went north, so she followed.  I dunno."

  
"And Terry?"

  
"Fuck if I know.  Fucked off somewhere."

  
"Your brothers?"

  
"You sure ask a lot'a questions, Firecrotch."

  
Ian grinned.  "Some things never change."

  
Mickey turned to look him in the eyes.  "Some things do."

  
Ian's smile dropped and he nodded.  He swallowed and looked away.  "So why'd you stick around if no one else did?"

  
Mickey propped his knees up so he could rest his forearms on them.  "I got a kid, man."  He paused.  "I'm not gonna be the dad my dad was.  Not gonna fuck my kid up, ya know?  Don't want him endin' up like me."

  
"You're not _so_ bad," Ian tried to joke.

  
Mickey snorted.  "Whatever, man.  Arthie's gonna know there ain't shit wrong with him.  No matter who he loves."

  
Ian nodded and got to his feet to stare up at the stars.  He turned to look down at the older man, his head cocked to the side.  "Nick really cares about you."

  
"Yeah, he does," Mickey agreed, "Sometimes I feel guilty, ya know.  'Cause I can't give 'im what he wants."

  
"You can't or you won't?"

  
Mickey stood, spit on the dusty floor of the dugout.  "Can't.  I don't have it in me anymore."  He gave Ian a pointed look.  "Someone already took it from me."

  
Ian opened his mouth and snapped it closed again when he felt the wetness pushing at the back of his eyes.  

  
Mickey looked away from him, leaned back against the railing and seemed to be talking to the sky.  "I really loved you, ya know.  I mean, I was fuckin' **in love** with you, man.  Really, just honest fuckin' bullshit love.  Like the way Mands loves your brother.  Or how my mom loved my dad.  How Conner loves you.  I just didn't know I was allowed to have something good.  'Cause I was so fucked up.  Didn't wanna fuck you up too."  He looked at Ian then, his own eyes shining.  "But I guess I did, didn't I?"

  
Ian swallowed.  "No.  I'm just fine."

  
"You should want _so much more_ for your life than 'fine,'" Mickey whispered.

  
Ian cleared his throat, took a step back.  All the feelings he thought might have left had come rushing back from just one conversation.  It was too close, under his skin and threatening to claw its way out and leave him bloody on the floor.  He cleared his throat again, not used to Mickey being as painfully honest as Conner was.  "I should go," he said, his voice sounding hoarse even to his own ears.  

  
"Yeah, your finance will be looking for you."

  
"Yeah.  I'll see ya."

  
Mickey laughed bitterly.  "Yeah, never."

  
"We're stayin' in the city for a few days."

  
Mickey raised his eyebrows and nodded as Ian turned on his heel to walked away.  "Ey, uh.. I gotta ask ya somethin'."

  
Ian turned back around.  "Okay?"

  
"Did you.." Mickey chewed the inside of his cheek.  "Did you love me too?"

  
Ian felt his breathing stutter.  He wanted to say no.  He wanted to say yes.  He wanted to ask how Mickey never knew the answer.  He wanted to say that it didn't matter now, had probably never mattered.  He wanted to remind Mickey of all the times he had told Ian they were 'just fucking.'  He wanted to scream and punch Mickey in the face and pull his hair and leave him broken, like he'd done to Ian outside that wearhouse.  But he also wanted to wrap his arms around Mickey and never let him go, not again.  He wanted to hide him away from everyone, just him and Mickey and his son.  He wanted to take care of them.  

  
He didn't want to go back to Conner.

  
The thought tugged at his heartstrings, made bile rush to his mouth.

  
"I, uh," he stopped, swallowed down the tears, "I gotta go, Mick."

  
Mickey nodded, like that was the answer he was expecting.  "Okay."

  
Ian took a few steps, fighting down the urge to run back to the Milkovich and kiss him stupid.  

  
"Yo, Gallagher!"

  
Ian didn't want to turn around.  He did it anyway.  "Yeah?"

  
"All that bullshit about how I loved you?  Probably shouldn't be past tense."

 

Ian's mouth gaped and he searched his brain for words to recipricate.  "I'll see ya," was what he responded with instead.

  
Mickey didn't even look surprised.


	5. I wish I could still wish it was over.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I can't do this again. He already has all of me; I've got nothin' left to give."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What will Mickey and Ian tell their significant others about the encounter at the baseball field?? How will Conner and Nick react???

"Where's Arthie?" Mickey asked, cigarette smoke pouring from his mouth as he stepped into the house he grew up in.

  
"I put 'im to bed already," Nick said, flicking the TV off and moving to face Mickey  when he plopped down onto the couch next to Nick.  "Dude, it's only 8:30."

  
"So?"

  
"So, short talk.  I'm guessing it didn't go well."

  
Mickey rubbed a hand over his face and took another drag of his cigarette.  "It went fine."

  
"Don't gimme that bullshit.  What happened?"

  
"I don't wanna fuckin' talk about it, man."

  
"Dude!" Nick cried, exasperated.  "This is the exact sort of thing that got you mixed up with this Ian shit-"

  
"Can you just shut the fuck up?!" Mickey hollered as he rose from the couch and disappeared into the kitchen.

  
Nick followed, unfazed.  "I'm just tryin' to help you, man.  I care about you.  I want you to be happy."

  
"I was fine!  I was **just fine** with you and with Arthur!  I was doing okay.  I was holding it together.  And then he had to fuckin' come in here with that same shit-eating grin he's always had.  He had to fuck everything up **again** , just like he always has.  I can't.." Mickey trailed off, taking a breath to calm himself.  When he spoke again, his voice was soft.  "I can't do this again.  He already has all of me; I've got nothin' left to give."

  
"Maybe this time will be different," Nick suggested quietly.

  
"He loves someone else, Nick, alright?  He's _in love_ with someone who isn't me.  It was never gonna be me.  Ever."  Mickey sighed.  "I don't wanna think about it anymore, man.  Can we just fuck or whatever and go to bed?  I gotta be up early."

  
Nick sniffled a little and swiped at his eyes roughly so Mickey wouldn't see the tears forming there.  "Yeah," he agreed as he nodded, "Yeah, Mickey, we can fuck or whatever."  He smiled  softly at the Milkovich as he clapped him on the shoulder.

  
Mickey tried his best to smile back, but something about the fakeness of it left a nasty taste in his mouth.  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
"Hey!" Conner greeted as Ian sulked up to The Alibi.  "That didn't take long.  You okay?"

  
"Yeah, I'm just peachy," Ian grouched, slouching against the hot bricks of the building.

  
"What's wrong?  Did he do something?"

  
"I'm really fine, Conner, okay?  Just.  Stop fussing over me, alright?"

  
Conner backed off, hands up in surrender.  "Yeah, okay.  As long as you're sure you're okay."

  
"I'm fine."

  
"You don't want to talk about it?"

  
"Not even a little bit," Ian said, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

  
"Why are you so twitchy, babe?"

  
"I need another cigarette."

  
Conner's eyebrows bunched in confusion.  "Another?  I didn't even know you smoked."

  
Ian slid down into a crouch.  "I used to."

  
"Your family's here."

  
Ian's eyes shot up.  "Did you meet them?"   
Conner shrugged.  "Mandy tried to introduce me, but I'm pretty sure I already forgot most of their names."  He flashed the smile that always made Ian's knees weak.

  
Ian sighed as he hauled himself back up.  "I really don't want to see them right now.  Let's just go to the hotel."

  
Conner grabbed his shoulder.  "Hey, wait.  I just.. Should I be worried?  About you and Mickey?"

  
Ian blinked.  He grabbed Conner's face with his hands and pushed him against the door, kissing him.  He licked along Conner's bottom lip and then slipped his tongue into Conner's open mouth.  He pulled back, stroking Conner's cheek with his thumb.  "You have **nothing** to worry about," Ian reassured, a little breathless.  "I love you with all my heart.  I'm gonna marry you.  Okay?"

  
"Always," Conner said under his breath.

  
"Forever," Ian agreed.

  
"I want you to fuck my brains out tonight," Conner whispered with a smirk.

  
Ian smirked back.  "That can be arranged."


	6. There'd be a smile on my face and the kettle on.  It would be just like you had never gone.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Whaddu want then, Gallagher?"
> 
>  
> 
> "Right now? You."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feeeeels and then sexxx (sex includes fingering and some light rimming. not your thing? don't read) and then more feeeelssss.
> 
> and thank you, thank you, thank you to Breea (as always) and also so all you lovely people who read these! I love you all!!

"Hello?" Ian called as he led Conner in through the front door of the Gallagher house.  Conner shut the door behind him and gripped Ian's hand tightly in his own.  Ian grinned at him.  "Nervous?"

  
Conner's smile was tight-lipped.  "What if they don't like me?" he mumbled, running his free hand through his hair and examining the floor.

  
"Hey," Ian said gently, "look at me.  What's not to like?  They're gonna _love_ you, okay?"

  
"Don't be so sure," a voice quipped from behind him.

  
Ian turned to see Lip with a beer bottle to his mouth and playfulness dancing in his eyes.  

  
"Lip!" Ian cried, releasing his hold on Conner to wrap his brother in a hug.  

  
"Missed you, kid," Lip said as he clapped Ian on the back.

  
"I missed you too," Ian said, pulling back, "look, we should talk about-"

  
"Forget about it," Lip cut him off.

  
"Where's everybody else?"

  
"Right here," Fiona said, galloping down the stairs with all of her sibling following.  She swooped Ian into a hug immediately.  "If you ever fuckin' scare us like that again, I'm cuttin' your balls off.  Got it?"

  
"Got it, Fi."

  
After hugging everyone, Ian turned to Conner.  "Conner, this is my family.  Family, this is my Conner."  He grinned.  

  
Everyone shook Conner's hand and Ian caught sight of a certain someone hiding in the kitchen, pretending like he wasn't watching.

  
Ian grabbed Lip's arm.  "What the fuck is Mickey doing here?" he hissed in his brother's ear.

  
Lip shrugged.  "Mickey's always here.  Debs watches his kid in her daycare.  Carl loves him."

  
Ian snorted.  "Carl would."

  
Lip eyed him curiously.  "He's not a bad guy, ya know.  He told me about what happened with you two.  He feels fucking awful, man."

  
Ian rolled his eyes.  "Sure he does."

  
"Cut him some slack."

  
"Since when do you like him?"

  
"Since the time he beat the shit out the guy who tried to put his hand up Debbie's skirt.  Or the time he helped Carl with a science project.  Or how he always volunteers to watch Liam while Fi's at work."

  
"Doesn't sound like the Mickey I knew."

  
"People change, Ian.  Take a look in the fucking mirror."

  
With that, Lip was gone, disappearing into the kitchen where he knew Ian wouldn't venture.  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
"Hello, Gallaghers!" Nick hollered as he barrelled through the back door, a squirming Arthur in his arms.

  
"Lemme down, Nickie!" Arthur whined, "want Daddy!"  Arthie pushed on Nick's chest, trying to get down on his own.

  
"Alright, hold you horses, kiddo."

  
"Daddy!" Arthur yelled as he ran into Mickey's waiting arms.

  
"Hey, champ," Mickey said into Arthur's dark hair.  He pulled back.  "The fuck is all over your face?  Nick!" Mickey got to his feet, infuriated.  "Did you give him cotton candy **again**?  After I fuckin' told you-"

  
"Look, dude, he **asked**.  And _you know_ how he gets with those big, stupid puppy dog eyes.  And he pouts and- and whimpers like the fuckin' world is ending!  I can't handle-"

  
"Oh, really?  You can't handle a five year old being a little whiney?  My God, Nick, why the fuck-"

  
"Yo, Mr. and Mrs!  Think you could chill out?" Lip called from the living room, "Tryin' to have a conversation in here."

  
"Fuck you!" Mickey yelled back.  He turned to Nick again.  "Get the fuck away from me right now, seriously."

  
Hurt flashed in Nick's eyes briefly before it was replaced by his own anger.  He bent to kiss Arthur on the head before looking back at Mickey.  "Call me when you get the fuck over your problem," he snarled, nodding towards something over Mickey's shoulder.  He opened the door and slammed it on his way out.  

  
Mickey didn't need to turn around to know what- or who- was behind him, but he did anyway.  

  
"S-sorry," Ian stammered, "I just came to get a beer.  I thought the fight was over already."

  
"It wasn't a fight."

  
Ian quirked an eyebrow.  "Sounded like a fight."

  
"Yeah, well it wasn't."

  
Ian snickered as he opened the fridge.  

  
"Got somethin' to say?" Mickey snapped as he set Arthur up on the island and grabbed a napkin to try to get the blue, sticky substance off his cheeks.

  
"Not a thing," Ian said after he'd straightened up and cracked his drink open.  "It's just.. Ya know, here everyone is telling me how much you've changed.  Here **you** are, telling me how different having Arthur makes you and you're doin' the same bullshit with Nick you always did with me."  He gulped his beer and shrugged.  "S' just funny, is all."

  
"You don't know shit 'bout me and Nick, Gallagher," Mickey griped, examining Arthie's face so he woudn't have to look at Ian.  Once he was satified  his son was clean, he let him down.  Arthur immediately ran into the other room.

  
"Yeah, guess not." Ian took a step closer and leaned against the island.  "But I do know you.  And if you really care about Nick, you shouldn't shut him out.  Not unless you want him to leave."

  
"What?  Like you did?"

  
Ian schooled his face into a hard expression.  "I did what I had to."

  
Mickey snorted.  "You did what you wanted."

  
"Fuck you," Ian spat before he slammed his now empty bottle onto the counter.  He had somehow come to stand right in front of Mickey, without the Milkovich noticing.

  
"You want to?" Mickey quipped, his eyebrows raised suggestively.

  
"I'm married."

  
"Not yet you ain't."

  
"Close enough."

  
"Nothing's ever set in stone."

  
Ian held up his left hand, his ring shining as the light hit it.  "This is."

  
"No," Mickey said breathily, stepping forward so he and Ian were only an inch apart.  " **That** ," Mickey smacked Ian's hand out of the air, "isn't.  **This** ," he gestured between them, "is.  Always has been."

  
Ian gulped.  "I'm drunk."

  
"You're wasted."

  
"Shit-faced."

  
"Plastered."

  
"It would be wrong for you to take advantage."

  
"Can't take advantage of the willing, Gallagher."

  
Ian gulped again, casting a glance over his shoulder.  "Look, this... this isn't gonna look good if Conner comes in here."

  
Mickey nodded slowly and took a step back.  "You love 'im.  I'll respect it."

  
Ian backed towards the entrance to the living room.  "Uh," he said, "dugout?  In like an hour?"

  
Mickey smirked.  "I'll be there."  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
"I didn't come here to fuck you," Ian stated as soon as he came into view.

  
"Okay.  So why'd you come?"

  
Ian shrugged.  "Been askin' myself the same thing," he mumbled.

  
"Look," Mickey started, getting to his feet, "if you don't want to talk to me, you don't have to."  He tried to shove past Ian, but the redhead grabbed his bicep.

  
"You're right," Ian whispered, breathing heavy, "I don't want to talk."

  
"Whaddu want then, Gallagher?"

  
"Right now?  You."

  
"And tomorrow?"

  
"I dunno."

  
"Good enough for me," Mickey breathed before he latched his lips onto Ian's.  

  
Ian made a broken sound in the back of his throat that sounded a lot like breaking resolve and Mickey licked into his mouth to shut him up.

  
"Want to go to my place?" Mickey asked under his breath after they'd broken apart.

  
"That is such a line," Ian laughed hoarsly.

  
"You comin' or not?"

  
"Yeah," Ian said softly as he nodded.  "Yeah, let's go."  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
"Place looks exactly the same," Ian said as Mickey shut and locked the front door behind them.

  
"Yeah, yeah," Mickey grumbled, "come on."

  
Ian followed Mickey into his bedroom, already shucking his shirt and pants.  

  
"Little over eager, are we?" Mickey taunted, his shirt hanging lazily in his hand as he eyes roamed Ian's body.

  
Ian smirked.  "Like what ya see?"

  
Mickey stepped forward, his hands on his belt as his fingers tried and failed to undo it.  "Goddamn it," he cursed under his breath, looking down.

  
"Here.  Let me," Ian offered.  He dropped to his knees, his hands making quick work of Mickey's belt and then his pants and boxers.  He grinned mischeviously up at the man who was looking at him with hooded eyelids.  Ian licked Mickey's hard dick from the base to the head, enjoying the moan Mickey made above him.

  
"Want you to fuck me," Mickey groaned.

  
Ian pressed a kiss to Mickey's inner thigh.  "Up on the bed then."

  
"Stop lookin' so fucking smug," he grouched, but he crawled onto his mattress on all fours anyway.

  
"You know your lube's still in the same place it always was?" Ian questioned as he postitioned himself behind Mickey.

  
"Quit your fucking yappin' and get on with-  Ah, shit."

  
Ian twisted his lubed finger in Mickey's ass.  "What were you saying?"

  
"Fuck," Mickey gasped, dropping his head.  "Nothin', man.  I wasn't sayin' nothing."

  
The edge of Ian's mouth lifted.  "S' what I thought."  Ian leaned down so he could wiggle his tongue in next to his finger.

   
"Holy.." Mickey mumbled.

  
"What the fuck is going on?"

  
Ian and Mickey both whipped around at the same time.  An image of Terry flooded Mickey's eyes before he blinked and saw Nick standing in the doorway.

  
"Why the hell are you here?" Mickey asked.

  
"I _live_ here, asshole.  I came back to get some shit so I could sleep at a friend's.  What the fuck?  Seriously.  He's getting **married** , Mickey."  Nick turned to Ian, who was now standing next to the bed instead of kneeling on it.  "You're engaged.  What would Conner say?"

  
Ian blanched.

  
Mickey stepped towards Nick, his boxers back in place and his finger pointed in warning.  "You're not gonna say shit."

  
Nick's eyebrows shot up.  "I'm not?  Why shouldn't I?"

  
"Please," Ian said from behind Mickey, his voice cracking.  "Please don't tell him."

  
"Why shouldn't I?" Nick repeated.  "He doesn't deserve this."

  
"You don't understand," Ian said, stepping past Mickey.  " I love Conner."  Nick snorted and rolled his eyes.  "I do.  But.. I loved Mickey first."

  
Nick shoved him in the chest, hard.  "You didn't love him enough to stick around when he needed you!" he screamed.  Then he was gone.  

  
"I should probably go," Ian sighed after a tense minute.

  
Mickey used his thumb to scratch at his bottom lip.  "Yeah, probably.  But are you actually gonna?"

  
Ian looked at him and sighed again.  He scrubbed a hand over his face.  "Fuck," he whispered.  "Yeah," he said out loud, "I have to try to get to Conner before he does."  
Mickey watched wordlessly as Ian gathered his clothes and put them on.  Ian gave him a small, sad smile as he turned to leave. 

"Did you mean it?" Mickey asked.

  
Ian turned towards him.  "Yeah.  I did."

  
Mickey studied the floor, hands on his hips.  "Do you still?"

  
"Does it matter?"

  
Mickey looked up at him, blue eyes meeting green ones.  A million moments passed between the two men in the time it took them to blink.  "Nah, man.  Guess not."

  
"You gonna go after Nick?"

  
Mickey shrugged.  "What for?"

  
"So you can make up with him."

  
"He'll come back.  Always does."

  
"You can't keep treating people like they're replaceable, Mick."  Mickey says nothing.  "Conner's probably gonna want to leave, so... I'll see ya."

  
"Yeah," Mickey responded, even though they both knew they wouldn't ever see each other again.


End file.
